Opening the Doors: Building a Pole Studio at Nearly 50 (and Everything That Comes With It)

There’s something slightly unhinged about deciding to open a pole fitness studio at nearly 50… while navigating perimenopause, ADHD, autism, and a lifetime of “not quite good enough” playing on loop in your head.

And yet—here we are.

If you’ve been following along, you’ll know this isn’t just about a space. It’s about creating something that finally feels aligned. Something that makes sense in my body, my brain, and my life in a way that very little ever has.

But let’s not romanticise it too much.

Because wow… the reality?

It’s been a lot.

The Physical Stuff (aka “Why did I think I could do this?”)

In an effort to save some money on the studio, I decided to undertake the decorating myself. Even I realised tearing down a wall was probably beyond my skills.

Covered in paint, questioning every life choice, and also weirdly buzzing with excitement. That pretty much sums up the whole experience so far—equal parts what am I doing and this is exactly what I’m meant to be doing.

Then came sourcing all the equipment (pole fitness kit is not cheap, by the way), making decisions, spending money, more money, and then some more money… all while trying to trust that this will work.

Because there’s no safety net when it’s your own business.

Just you, your vision, and a bank balance that starts to look a bit… concerning.

The finished studio!

The ADHD Rollercoaster

If you know, you know.

The excitement? Off the charts.The ideas? Non-stop.The ability to sleep? Absolutely not.

I’ve had nights where my brain simply refuses to switch off—running through class ideas, layouts, marketing plans, worries, random bursts of creativity at 3am… all of it.

And then the next day?

Still showing up. Still pushing through. Still building.

That’s the bit people don’t always see with ADHD. Yes, there’s the chaos and the overwhelm—but there’s also this relentless drive when something truly matters.

And this matters.

Perimenopause + Neurodiversity = A Whole Thing

I’m not going to sugarcoat this part.

Trying to start a business while your hormones are doing whatever they fancy… while your brain processes the world differently… while your energy levels can swing wildly…

It’s a challenge.

Some days I feel completely capable, grounded, and clear.

Other days? Everything feels harder. Louder. Heavier.

But here’s the surprising part…

For the first time in my life, a lot of this feels more manageable, not less.

Not because the challenges have gone away—they haven’t.

But because I care so deeply about what I’m building.

Because I understand myself better now.

Because I’ve learned (and am still learning) how to work with my brain instead of constantly fighting it.

The executive dysfunction is still there—but it doesn’t win as often.

The Bit No One Talks About: RSD and Visibility

This is the one that’s been quietly running the show in the background.

Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria.

The voice that says:

• “Don’t post that, people will judge it.”

• “What if no one books?”

• “What if you put yourself out there and it proves you’re not good enough?”

After years of feeling like I didn’t quite measure up, promoting my own business feels… exposing.

Even though I know the value of what I offer.Even though I see the impact in my classes.

There’s still that hesitation. That pull to stay small, stay safe, stay quiet.

But I’m working on it.

Because people can’t google "pole classes near me" and find my new studio, if I don’t actually tell them they exist.

And more importantly—there are people out there who need this space just as much as I needed it.

Why This Time Feels Different

Despite all of it—the exhaustion, the doubts, the financial risk, the emotional rollercoaster—there’s something that feels fundamentally different this time.

This isn’t me trying to fit into something.

This is me building something that fits me.

A space where pole dancing and pole fitness aren’t about perfection or performance, but about connection. To your body. To your strength. To yourself.

And maybe that’s why I keep going.

Even on the hard days.

Even when my brain is loud.

Even when fear creeps in.

A Quiet Kind of Hope

I don’t have it all figured out.

I still have moments where I question everything.

But underneath that… there’s hope.

A steady, grounded kind of hope that says:

This could actually work.

Not because it’s easy.But because it’s real.

What’s Next for me and the pole studio…

In the next post, I’m going to share something that completely surprised me…

How I basically had to relearn how to walk properly at nearly 50—and how that’s changed everything I thought I knew about movement, strength, and even pole.

It turns out… we might be getting the basics wrong.

And fixing them? Changes everything.

If you’re local and curious about pole fitness, or you’ve been searching for pole classes near me but felt too nervous to try… this is your sign.

This space was built for you too.